“I’ve come to beg a favor of you.”
She frowned at him. “Are you in another fix? If so, you should apply to Rayne—but he is not here at present. He is in London.”
“Don’t I know it,” Freddie said peevishly. “Some sort of hush-hush spy business, I collect. But no, I am not in a fix this time … for once. I learned my lesson with the last debacle. I am keeping well away from scheming widows.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I hoped you might put in a good word for me with a young lady I have my eye on.”
Madeline’s eyebrow rose. “You are interested in a young lady?”
“Yes, but it is all quite proper. Miss Merrywether is the sort of female whom even my stickler father would approve of. And she has the loveliest smile—enough to make a chap go dizzy. But she says her mama would not allow her to further our association, since I have developed a rakish reputation. Me, a rake! It is quite unfair, since I don’t hold a candle to the true rakes of the Beau Monde. Besides, I have become rehabilitated. I’ve given up any thoughts of debauchery and fun under pain of being disinherited.”
Madeline was growing dizzy herself with Freddie’s meandering commentary. “So how can I help you?”
“You could improve my suit if you would sing my praises to Miss Merrywether and her mama. They will take special note of your opinion, you being a countess and all.”
“But I may not be a countess for much longer,” Madeline said morosely.
His expression arresting, Freddie sat up. “What the devil do you mean?”
Madeline shuddered as she recalled the dark dilemma she was facing. “Never mind. But I am afraid I cannot help you just now.”
“Why not?”
“Freddie, please—just leave me alone.”
“My, you are viperish today.”
Raising a hand to her temple, Madeline grimaced at his complaint, knowing she had no right to take her despairing mood out on him.
“What is it, Madeline?” he pressed. “Do you have the megrims?”
She sighed. “No, it is nothing like that. I beg your pardon, Freddie. I am just poor company today.”
His gaze turned somber. “Why don’t you tell me what has you so blue-deviled?”
“It would not make any difference.”
“How do you know unless you try? I can be a good listener if I truly put my mind to it. And you look as if you could use a friend just now.”
Madeline debated a long moment before deciding that Freddie was right. She badly needed a friend, given her current emotional state—her mind spinning with turmoil, her chest aching with grief and anger.
“Very well, I will tell you,” she murmured before spilling out the truth in a rush. “Lady Haviland offered me fifty thousand pounds if I would leave England and disappear from Rayne’s life so he could secure an annulment and marry someone more suitable. And I don’t know what to do,” she finished miserably.
Freddie’s eyes widened with shock. “Fifty thousand pounds? Why, that is a king’s ransom.”
“I know,” Madeline agreed.
“But of course you will not accept.”
“No? Why should I not? Lady Haviland said that Rayne now realizes his mistake in marrying me. I don’t want to remain his wife if he doesn’t want me.”
Freddie’s brow furrowed in thought. “And you trust that old bat’s word? Maybe Rayne does not want you, but I can’t credit that he would send his grandmama to do his dirty deeds for him and buy you off with a bribe. It was likely Lady Haviland’s idea entirely.”
“Even so, perhaps it is best if I accept her offer.”
Shaking his head, Freddie rose and began pacing the floor. “You should not be so hasty, Madeline. You are not nearly as unsuitable as Lady Haviland claims.”